


like an absolution

by Mia_Zeklos



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: (the last being Jaime and Cersei's as of yet unborn child who is present here), Character Study, F/M, Introspection, Kid Fic, POV Alternating, Post-Canon, Reunions, Running Away, Sibling Incest, Starting Over, and a whole lot of other things that I don't have a tag for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 11:36:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13950747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mia_Zeklos/pseuds/Mia_Zeklos
Summary: When Jaime returns to King's Landing, it's with the news that they should either run or surrender and accept whatever sentence awaits them.So they run.





	like an absolution

**Author's Note:**

> /The title is inspired by [this poem](https://i.imgur.com/FJk23Bk.jpg) that I tried my best to find the original for but failed. It just fits altogether too well./
> 
> This fic took a week to write and drained my life force in the meantime, but I am satisfied with how it turned out to a degree, so... here it is. Yes, I do realise that canon won't be so merciful, but let me have this, okay? I wanted to imagine a world in which they do get another chance and this is the result.
> 
> Additional warning: All the book-reading and wikis in the world didn't help me with finding some of the details about the Free Cities (and specifically Volantis) that I needed for this fic, so a lot of it was made up on the spot. Also, since it's a show-based fic, I'm going with what we have there. Hope you guys enjoy it!

Jaime only gets the chance to take a breath once they’re on board of the ship.

Before that, it’s all been a whirlwind – saying his goodbyes to Tyrion and riding for King’s Landing so fast that his horse had almost abandoned him at one point and then, after he’d finally arrived, trying to convince Cersei that they needed to run if they wanted to live. She had listened, much to his relief, and before he could blink, she’d had the Mountain bring several large chests full of her belongings down to the ship Jaime had managed to arrange on his way to the city.

She had almost expected it, Jaime had thought, only to have his own collected resolution completely fall apart when one of the handmaidens running around, clearly unaware that he wasn’t exactly _welcome_ here, had asked him if Her Grace wanted them to wake the Princess.

 _Yes_ , he’d said without hesitation and had proceeded to take his daughter from the girl’s arms once she had brought her to him. He’d found Cersei in her chambers, gathering even more of her things in a small bag. _Gold_ , Jaime had realised, _that’s what it is_. She didn’t expect she would ever come back.

The run down the staircase in the back of the Red Keep had been a quick ordeal, the still-falling snow already covering their footsteps as they’d climbed onto the ship, where Jaime had rushed the Captain to leave before the Mountain could return once again.

It shouldn’t have been his decision to make, really, but Jaime had simply wanted to be rid of him before they could sail away. Cersei wouldn’t need him anymore, and— and they were never coming back either way. Best to leave Westeros behind them.

Now, here, in the small cabin they had decided to stay in, all of it seems like a fever dream. The war, the Night King, the Dragon Queen and her decision to march on King’s Landing as soon as possible – it’s all a mess in his head and he can’t quite make sense of it. He’s not even trying, come to think of it, because it doesn’t matter – before long, it’ll all be in the past. Now, all that matters is what’s in front of him and what’s in front of him is _painful_ in more ways than he had imagined it would be.

Cersei won’t look him in the eye. She’s been busying herself with the baby – not really a baby anymore, it’s been two years – ever since realising that they’re relatively safe and the girl is laughing, her eyes already closing on their own volition once more. They’d woke her up in the middle of the night, after all, and she tires easily enough for Cersei to quickly calm her down so that she wouldn’t make any noise.

Once she’s done, his sister sits down on the edge of the bed, still resolutely staring at her lap even when Jaime approaches.

“Keep quiet,” she warns; the first thing that she’s said since they’d left the Red Keep. “You’ll wake her up.”

“I’ll try not to.” Not waiting for an invitation, Jaime takes his place next to her. “Did you tell her about me?” All he gets in return is a headshake. “But she knows—”

“She knows what a father is and that she has one, yes.” Her voice is quiet; quieter than before and yet more biting that he’s ever heard it. It’s unsettling. Jaime swallows nervously.

“Are you planning on telling her?”

“Why would I?” It _hurts_ , more than anything else she could have said, and Cersei’s eyes dart up to his face when she senses that. She looks restless and terrified like a caged animal and that hurts too – a distant, softer pang at the realisation that she isn’t a woman born capable of running away. “Would you want me to?”

“Of course I would.” It’s unbelievable that she even needs to _ask_ ; that there’s so much vulnerability in the question. “But only if you’ll let me stay. I’m tired— I’m _tired_ of fighting. We can try to get it right this time around.”

“Why would you want to stay?” The words rush out, furious and nearly bewildered. “You gave a _word_ , remember? I broke that word. The Targaryen girl could have pardoned you, if you had only—”

“I gave a word to fight and that’s what I did,” Jaime cuts her off, almost afraid to imagine the direction this speech is taking. “It wasn’t what you wanted. We both made the choices we thought were right, but that’s not the only word I gave.” His hand rests over hers, now, and she doesn’t pull away – it’s as much of a victory as he’ll achieve tonight, Jaime suspects until she meets his eyes. “Together, remember? Always.”

“So this is you fulfilling your duty?” The sardonic edge to the question is as expected as it’s exasperating and Jaime groans.

“I’m here because I want to be. What do _you_ want?”

Cersei doesn’t hesitate. “I want to be alone.”

***

So he leaves her alone. It’s a long trip to Volantis and it’s a big ship – they can avoid each other rather easily and that’s exactly what they do. Jaime is grateful for it to a degree, because it gives him the time to think.

It had seemed like a given, at first, to come back; to keep her safe, help her run because he had been well aware that she wouldn’t. He hadn’t had the faintest idea what he would do afterwards, but now that he’s seen her – and the child, their _daughter_ whose name he doesn’t even know yet – he’s as confident in his decision as he could get.

She’s still his Cersei; his other half. Self-preservation had always been one of her more prominent traits, so what she had done had made perfect sense once Jaime had calmed down enough to think it through. When he’d tried to entertain the thought of leaving her on her own until the end, everything inside him had rebelled against the prospect and it seems equally unacceptable now that he’s here with her. All they need is another chance – a brand new place where they would never need to look back. It will all fit into place then, Jaime’s sure of it.

Truth be told, it’s all he’s ever wanted – another chance. A place where no one will know him – _them_ – and no one will _care_.

Volantis is the obvious choice, really. They can have a home somewhere by the sea and the idea is one that’s been stuck in his head for so long that it just feels like a natural conclusion at this point.

Anything else – this gap that’s grown between them – can be overcome. _Anything_. If there’s one certain truth in this world, it’s this.

And sure enough, less than a week later, Jaime finds his sister on the deck next to him, looking out towards the seemingly endless sea surrounding them. She’s already bracing herself to speak by the time a sailor catches up with her and she seems almost disappointed by the missed chance when he calls out to her.

“Your Grace, the princess is calling for you. I was wondering—”

“Yes, bring her to me,” Cersei nods and it’s enough of a dismissal for the man to leave just as she turns away, confusion painting her features at the sound of the title.

“The crew’s loyal to us,” Jaime answers the unspoken question. “I made sure of that before I even reached King’s Landing.”

 _That_ smile makes an appearance again, along with the same mirthless tone from a few days ago. “To _us_.”

“I’m here whether you would like me to be or not, so yes, to _us_ ,” Jaime snaps and takes a rather perverse pleasure from the anger in her eyes. _Better than nothing, at least_. It’s the nothingness that only ever truly terrifies him. “Can I see her now?”

It’s a demand more than a plea and Jaime isn’t sure what he’d do if she says no, but thankfully, she just nods. “I would have never stopped you. She’ll be here in a moment.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t hear anything about her all this time.” _What’s her name?_ It’s the most pressing question on an ever-growing list, but he bites it back once again, still pained by the fact that he doesn’t know.

“Few people did,” Cersei says. “By the time she was born, I had already realised what the outcome of the war might be. If I were to run—” A pause. “She would become a target too. For all I know, she already has.”

“Tyrion wouldn’t allow it,” Jaime protests immediately. “He _loves_ the children, and since you spared his life—”

“I didn’t spare his life because of this,” Cersei says, irritated. “It’s just—Father said it himself: it’s the family name that matters and we’re the last of us.” _Father_. Jaime isn’t sure why his siblings keep squabbling between each other when they’re so much alike; trying to defy their family and follow its words to the smallest detail at the same time. For a quick, fleeting moment, he hates them all, but then his sister speaks again. “And I was _not_ referring to Tyrion.”

“The remaining Targaryens _could_ feel threatened by a Lannister heir,” Jaime nods and the mere possibility of that sends a cold frisson of fear down his spine – he doesn’t know either of them well enough to be able to tell what they would do.

“They won’t ever find us again either way,” Cersei shrugs, “but _threatened_ suits me just fine.”

Ah, there she is. _This_ is what Jaime had been trying to coax out of her on their first night on the ship, because it’s what she _is_ , for better or for worse; irrational and frustrating and unpredictable, and the return of it all is only made better by the sailor coming back, this time not alone.

“Mama!” The girl exclaims, stumbling on her still uncertain feet until Cersei meets her halfway and picks her up. She’s smiling, hair glistening under the morning sun, and the memory of the last time he’s seen a sight like this – _Myrcella_ – almost makes Jaime choke on his own breath.

Cersei gives him a quick, calculating look and then turns back to their daughter to start a conversation with her – one that looks altogether too serious for someone so _small_.

It’s easier to take it all in that way, Jaime thinks; easier to spot the changes out here in the broad daylight while his sister is unaware of the attention. _Two years_. It’s the longest time they’d ever spent apart. She had started growing her hair out again and now, it curls slightly just below her shoulders, the first two strands of it on either side braided to the back. She seems paler now, her face gaunter than before, and the exhaustion is etched onto her features, but it all fades away when she speaks to her princess, the smile lighting up her expression in a way he hasn’t seen in what feels like forever.

 _This is why she ran_. Over the last two years, Jaime had heard enough remarks about his sister to last him a lifetime and while the rather widespread opinion is that she treasures nothing else the way she does her crown, she’s managed to prove them all wrong. If it had been just her, she would have died on the Iron Throne as she had almost done once already, but she _hadn’t_ and the girl in her arms, babbling excitedly at her, is the only person in the world responsible for that. _His daughter_.

“Can I,” Jaime starts, words not quite catching up to his actions as he’s already reaching out towards them. “Can I hold her?”

“Here.” Ever so carefully, Cersei nears him, only to ask, “Would you like to stay with your father for a while, Cora?”

The response isn’t entirely comprehensible to Jaime, but clearly it’s an enthusiastic enough agreement for her to end up in his arms a moment later, his good hand supporting her as best as it can as he tries to compensate the difference by being even more careful. He presses her to his chest, led by a half-forgotten instinct from years ago, and when she looks up at him with a curious smile, any hesitation he could have had disappears. _Anything_ he could have done would have been worth it; everything that had led up to this moment.

 _Cora_. A beautiful name, if not a common one for their family, but then again, it’s easy to see why that would be – Cersei had left everything behind, including her betrothed and their combined armies; it only makes sense that she would have tried to distance herself and her daughter from it all before it was too late. It’s what she’s always been like – wherever her other ambitions had led her, her children would always come first.

It’s an amazing thing to realise and even more so to live with it – this time around, although Jaime hadn’t been present to see his child being born, he gets to do so much more than he ever has before. He gets to hold Cora up when she wants to see the dolphins that jump out of the water sometimes, to come to her instead of telling her to keep quiet when she calls him ‘papa’, and to introduce her to the new, increasingly exotic meals they’re being served as they pass by the first Free Cities. Even Cersei approves of that, although she still corrects her pronunciation whenever she gets it wrong.

Cora isn’t really bothered – by that, or by anything else around them. She warms up to him quickly and she’s happy that her mother is around more often than before and that’s all that matters. She’s too young to notice the tension hanging over them both and they’re too busy to address it. No one on the ship blinks an eye at the sight of them (even if they do try to stay away, Jaime’s noticed) and for now, things are about as good as they can get.

It’s not bound to last. In fact, Jaime can almost hear their tentative peace shattering to pieces the moment they’ve arrived in Volantis, and yet he still clings stubbornly to the mostly baseless hope that they can make it all work somehow.

“Is this the place?” Cersei asks, parting the carriage’s curtains to look at the world outside for the thousandth time. She had never had the patience for long journeys – even when they’d been children, she had always pestered their father with questions until they reached their destination – but the anxiety makes it even worse now and she can’t quite seem to force herself to sit still.

Fortunately, this time the answer is exactly the one she’s hoping for. “This is the place,” Jaime confirms after he peers through the windows. “The Captain told me that it’s empty and that we can stay the night; the owner will come to meet us tomorrow. Some local Lord or another,” he clarifies when Cersei’s eyes dart towards him, the question clear in them. “He doesn’t have any family left and he’d prefer to move to the city itself. All the better for us; there’s no one around for _miles_.”

“And the city?”

“We can always reach it by horse, when we get around to buying one,” Jaime shrugs, not too concerned about the issue.

The same can’t be said about his sister – as soon as they get out of the carriage, she directs her attention to the coachman, unleashing the full force of her most convincing helpless demeanour on him as the man unloads their luggage in front of the castle gates. Jaime shakes his head as he helps Cora out of her seat, more than a little amused by the display – _he has no idea_ – only to frown when she presses a few Gold Dragons into his palm and he motions her back inside.

“We look out of place as it is,” Cersei says when he turns to her for an explanation. “We might be miles away from the heart of the city, but we could at least make an effort. No one here knows what I actually look like,” she continues and nods to the chests piled to the side when he makes to protest. “Get all of this inside, and be careful with the black one.”

She pulls the curtains back down and this time, Jaime _understands_ – it must be tempting to lose herself in the crowd; something she hasn’t been capable of in years. And plus, she’s right; they can’t do much to mask the fact that they look nothing like the locals, but they still need to try and if that’s the way to do it, then she’s welcome to make the first step.

Jaime, on the other hand, busies himself with the luggage, bringing it all across the short alleyway and into the building one by one. It’s all gold and a minimal amount of clothing, he notices; both for the two of them and for Cora. Cersei’s been thinking ahead as always, it seems, even when under pressure, and there’s enough wealth stored here to last them a very comfortable lifetime, but it’s the strange protectiveness she’d shown towards the case right on top of the already impressive pile that draws him in. It’s surprisingly light, and it’s easy to see that it doesn’t have the same purpose as the rest of the things she’s thought to bring with herself as a last moment decision, which doesn’t really leave him with all that many possibilities.

Jaime wrestles the lock open once he’s made sure that everything else’s inside already and the sight that greets him there is both unexpected and enough to make him laugh at how _obvious_ the answer is.

There, nestled in its black velvet pillow, the braided silver of Cersei’s crown glistens under the sun, its sharp spikes on the front enough to make his finger bleed when he tries to pick it up.

 _Of course_. Had he really expected anything else?

* * *

Not many people in Volantis speak the Common Tongue.

It’s nearly impossible to get anything done with it here, and it’s becoming more apparent whenever Cersei makes an attempt at conversation with anyone. The man who had driven the carriage to the Long Bridge – and had promised to take her back to the small castle by the seaside that her brother had picked – had been easy enough to talk to, but she can’t say anything of the sort about the rest of the locals.

High Valyrian – what little she remembers of it from the lessons she’d received in her childhood – isn’t overly helpful either and eventually, she gives up on it. It only seems to empathise how out of place she is, and it’s the last thing Cersei needs at the moment.

Still, the minor annoyances of trying to figure out the chaos of the city are a welcome distraction and soon enough, she lets the chaos in question engulf her almost entirely. Here, in the crowd, it’s easy not to focus on anything in particular; to pretend that it’s where she belongs.

It’s not too long before the main reason she’d even opted to come here so early on is brought to her attention – _clothing_. It’s all so _different_ from King’s Landing, and it likely has more to do with the stifling heat of the city than with anything else, so she approaches at the first sight of a dress that looks relatively well-made. Her own clothes had been feeling more and more restrictive the further south they had gone and although she can’t really voice that kind of complaint yet, she’s almost certain that the same thing goes for Cora – all her garments had been purchased for a long, already merciless winter; not for the endless summer they had found here. Surely some of the dresses that the market offers would be good enough – but it’s all so _bright_. It’s not really something Cersei would opt for, hasn’t been for years, unless—

“It’s much too hot for all that black, my dear.”

She turns around sharply at the unexpected sound of the Common Tongue behind her back, already on edge given the density of the crowd. It feels so _strange_ , to not have guards to keep the space around her clear, but it’s also what helps her disappear. Just now, that’s all that matters and she offers the shopkeeper – a woman with long grey hair and a smile as warm as it’s cautious – a stiff nod. “So it is.”

“Here, take a look at this.” The woman takes her hand and guides it over the fabric of one of the dresses hanging near the entrance of the shop, and Cersei has to stop herself from snapping at her for it. It would draw an unfortunate amount of attention, but at the same time, people have rarely dared before. She _prefers_ it that way. “It would suit your shape just right, I think. It’s a lovely colour, isn’t it?”

It is. It’s something she might have worn once, Cersei thinks – delicate and pink and so light that she knows it won’t stay in place at the slightest hint of wind. That’s the _point_ of it, but it hasn’t been what she’s wanted for quite a while now. “Anything else?”

“But of course.” Before she can blink, she finds herself in front of a growing pile of dresses, each prettier and more elaborate than the last. She might look lost, but she also looks _rich_ , Cersei can already guess: anywhere in this world, it’s easy to recognise a noble who doesn’t mind spending a fortune on a whim. “How about this one? It’s Dornish silk.”

 _No_. It’s another impulse that she has to hold back, but— _they’re all dead now_. Even now, more than two years after they had been brought to her feet, weeks after she had left the Red Keep, the remnants of the last of them are still chained in the dungeons. “Show me,” she says instead, and takes the dress from the woman’s hands when she spreads it out in front of her.

The fabric whispers over her fingers like water; cool and gentle and almost soothing. It’s in deep crimson with gemstones woven into the neckline and despite everything, Cersei is unable to resist. _It has to be this one._

She ends up spending quite the sum at the market, mainly for this – clothes and shoes and jewellery and anything else that seems necessary for their survival here. As of right now, that includes Jaime – he’s adamant about staying, it seems, and as much as she tries to be displeased with that decision, it’s difficult to remain so when she’s _not_.

 The truth, as much as she’s tried to hide it even from herself since the very start, is that although she hadn’t entertained the thought of him coming back, she’d been thankful to see him. The thought of her crown and her throne being taken away from her had been a recurring one, but even now, looking back at it all, there’s nothing – _nothing_ – more terrifying than being cornered in the Red Keep with nowhere to go. Death has always been an option, of course, and it’s what she would have resorted to if it had come down to that, but the thought of taking Cora – still so young, too young to understand anything at all – with herself had paralysed her with fear up to the moment she had seen a way out.

The thoughts tumble in one after the other as she gets back into the carriage and this time, it’s impossible to stop them. It’s a terrible combination of grief and pain and immense relief and it claws at her throat every time she draws in a breath; makes her dizzy as she tries to put herself back together.

 _Westeros’s first ruling Queen_. It’s what she’s always wanted and in a way, it’s what no one else will ever have – it’s what history will remember her as. It’s a small comfort, but when the horses slow down in front of the gates of the still unfamiliar castle, Cersei’s racing heart starts to calm down somewhat – _it could have been worse. Much, much worse_.

 The place is beautiful, she has to admit that much. It’s no Casterly Rock, but nothing ever is, and it’s not necessarily a bad thing – all of this is supposed to be brand new and this time, Cersei welcomes the thought. The castle is still _tiny_ , with no more than a dozen bedrooms, a drawing room and a staff quarters, from the looks of it, but all things considered, it’ll have to do.

 For now, it’s mostly deserted. Cersei makes her way between the overgrown weeds that have taken over the garden and makes a note to herself to add _gardener_ to the list of people they need to hire. Whatever Lord had lived here clearly hadn’t cared much for the finer details, but if they’re meant to spend a good majority of their time here, then _something_ will have to be done about the state of the land.

Anxiety clutches at her chest once again as the vision of the future overwhelms her. This isn’t a temporary thing like the ship had been; with any luck, she’ll get to spend the rest of her days here. Even the constant litany of _it could have been worse_ in her mind doesn’t help this time around, especially when her mind shifts to the only current inhabitants of the castle. Cora, her little princess— the future she had had planned for her had been so viscerally different that it almost hurts to look at what she’s getting instead. _She won’t ever know what she’s missing_.

She could have had it all – the love of the people and none of the struggle that every woman before her had suffered to get to the same position. She could have been a queen, and instead, she’d received a castle by the sea in _Volantis_.

Still, it’s going to be a better life than any her predecessors had had; Cersei can already tell. _They’re all ashes now, and she’s here, living and breathing_. It’s enough. It has to be.

“I was already starting to wonder whether you were coming back.”

The voice floating from behind is as familiar to her as her own, as are the arms tentatively wrapping around her waist. She leans back into the touch, studiously trying not to give it too much thought, and Jaime’s hold tightens around her a fraction more.

“I brought us clothes.” Shifting in his embrace until she can look him in the eye, Cersei holds his gaze for as long as she can manage to, which is no small feat. He’d got rid of his shirt at some point and now that his chest is on display, it’s easy to see all the new scars and bruises that hadn’t been there before. _I’ve missed so much_ , she thinks and can’t quite stop herself from tracing one of the more prominent cuts with her finger. He’s like a statue – completely still as if he thinks that any movement could scare her away – but still so _alive_ , the familiar flutter of his heart ever so present under her touch, and Cersei resists the temptation to ask. _He can tell me later. We have all the time in the world_.

“And some food,” she soldiers on, “and not nearly enough water for a bath for either of us, I’m afraid. No matter,” she adds when he attempts to speak, doubtlessly about to mention the absent staff of the castle, “the sea will do just fine.” Her body, her entire _being_ , feels dirty and tired and uncooperative, and she knows her brother feels the same. Plus, it’s easy to see that the seaside is where he’s spent the last few hours – he’s still covered in sand from it, and when Cersei returns the embrace and plasters herself against him, she can smell the air of salt that surrounds him.

It’s ridiculously comforting, even after all this time – after everything that had happened – to be able to sink into his arms and not have to let go. _Together, always_. It had been an oath as much as a reassurance and it’s one of Cersei’s most treasured possessions.

 _Traitor_. It’s the only thing that had come to mind the day he’d left King’s Landing, but it’s difficult to still be convinced of it now that he’s sacrificed so much – _everything_ – to be here and Cersei tries to keep still for at least a moment as she basks in the knowledge that it’s _over_. Whatever they’ve done, whatever choices they’ve made will still haunt them in the years to come, but for now, it feels so tempting to forget about everything that doesn’t exist in this very instant.

Jaime’s the first to break their silence, the hand on the small of her back pushing her in a direction exactly opposite to the one of the castle. “Cora loves the sea already,” he says and grins at Cersei’s alarmed expression. “ _No_ , I haven’t let her swim. She’s in her cradle and she’s asleep, so if we’re going to spend the night there anyway—”

And really, she can’t see why not.

Cersei lets him lead her to the side of the garden where her shoes slowly start sinking into sand instead of the scorched earth that seems to be the defining quality of all of Essos and she disposes of them when it becomes almost impossible to keep going. She leaves her dress there too – it’s too heavy and unyielding and the night is too hot and she’s too exhausted by it all to truly feel the small pang of loss that the action brings along – and raises an eyebrow when she sees Jaime follow her example.

“It’s been a long journey,” he says pointedly and follows her past Cora’s crib and into the water as the waves start lapping at their feet. It’s pleasantly warm and a welcome, refreshing change from the unbearable heat of everything around them, and – more importantly – it’s even better than Cersei remembers.

The last time she’d had the chance to swim had been many years ago, back at the Rock, with Jaime by her side and now, it feels like nothing short of a rebirth. The sea is vast and dark and completely unknown, and Cersei is _home_.

Jaime undoes her braids as they make a few more steps and it’s one more thing that feels all too close to home. Is this how it’s going to be? Just settling into an entirely new life without ever bringing up the past again? She doubts it – neither of them has ever been any good at remaining civil if they have something to say – but Cersei’s not too eager to press the issue either.

She turns around instead, the resistance of the water just enough to help her stay anchored in place as Jaime’s arms bring her closer to him yet again.

“So this is it,” Cersei says, gesturing to everything around them – the castle, the small garden that accompanies it, the cradle secured safely away from the water but close enough to still be in sight.

“This is it,” Jaime echoes. “It’s far from perfect, but it’s what we’ve got.”

“It’s fine,” she hurries to say, looking away when he tries to catch her eye. “It’s enough. Thank you.”

“I did it for both of us.” He’s never liked being avoided and Cersei feels his fingers under her chin, forcing her to look up. “You don’t need to _thank_ me.”

Cersei kisses him. If there’s a different response – one that’s acceptable, something that contains the right words – then she can’t find it. Either way, it doesn’t matter – Jaime responds without hesitation, latching onto her like he’s been equally desperate for it all along.

She brings him underwater with her eventually, until it engulfs them completely, and they share the breath they still have there, only breaking apart when they start feeling dizzy.

Cersei’s eyes dart towards the castle as soon as she blinks the water away, but Jaime drags her into another kiss, quick and light this time.

“She’s _fine_ ,” her brother assures her, although he sends a fond glance in the same direction. “She’s more than fine. _Cora Lannister_ ,” he says, not without some reverence, as if to himself, and his joy’s infectious; enough for Cersei to find herself smiling too. “There’s so much for her to look forward to.”

“There is.” Feeling far more refreshed now, she tries to squeeze the seawater out of her hair and heads for the beach. Jaime doesn’t resist when she pulls him along and they sit down on the sand like this; dripping wet and with their hands still linked.

There is much more left for them to deal with, Cersei knows, but none of it exists right now. They just help each other into their new clothes, still unused to all the laces and ribbons that come with the locals’s preferences, and get to their feet. It must be nearing morning already and Cora doesn’t stir when Cersei picks her up, ready to find a new bedroom for her before they retire for the night.

She passes by the pile that her dress and Jaime’s breeches make on her way back to the castle and for a moment thinks about bringing them in, but the clothes look so out of place here, unlike everything else about them now. She can see Jaime by the front entrance, opening the door with a deafening creak and— and there’s no point anymore, really. Cersei takes a turn for the gardens instead. Eventually, the sea will wash it all away.


End file.
